


Sweater Weather

by c0cunt



Series: For the Bonely Hearts [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Christmas Party, IF ONLY THESE FUCKERS JUST TALKED, M/M, Miscommunication, asexual!Jean, cheesy Christmas sweaters abound, podcast au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:13:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean gets anxious and worried that he isn't enough for Marco.<br/>There's a Christmas/welcome home party for Mikasa.<br/>Conflict and resolution happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HedonistInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/gifts).



   December wasn’t exactly Jean’s least favorite month.  But let’s be real, it was his least favorite month, especially as he grew older.  Not only was his own family’s religion and traditions completely overridden by fat old men in red suits, but he was expected to be even more social as well.  And with a family that consisted of almost a dozen aunts and uncles on his mother’s side, with twice as many cousins, and five aunts from his father’s side, with triple the amount of children...The holiday season was a plain nightmare for him, and as one of the oldests, he was always asked to babysit the younger cousins while the adults chatted and complained.  But Jean would try his best to not crash and burn as the month progressed, especially around his boyfriend of five months, Marco, even if the holidays did bring up the perfect time to proudly show off just how great Marco was.

 

   Or, well...Maybe Marco wasn’t exactly the greatest.  Everyone has flaws, Jean reasoned, even as he fumed over some of the things that Marco did.  Like leaving his socks all over the place (how the ever loving FUCK did one get into the damn fish tank?).  Or how he would shove Jean under the umbrella and let himself get wet, even when Jean was furiously trying to shove him underneath it too.  Or how he apologized so fucking much that any time Jean heard the first syllable of the word “sorry” from his mouth, Jean would let his head fall against the table and tell him to put a dollar in the “wrongful apology” jar.  But above all, the thing that irritated Jean the most about his oh so loving boyfriend, was how he was always pushing for Jean to don a Christmas sweater.

 

   The first day of December had barely passed before Marco had nonchalantly asked about Jean’s lack of Christmas sweaters.  A deadpanned look and a grumbling about stupid goyim had Marco apologizing profusely, and Jean feeling surprisingly satisfied.  Jean’s family definitely wasn’t the most religious, but his grandmother had made sure that Jean learned enough Yiddish and Hebrew to hold basic conversations with his great-grandfather before he passed, and Jean was definitely proud of that.  He felt even more proud as he told this to Marco (who was now one of three people to know this, outside of his family), who then spent the next two weeks carefully researching Judaism.  The Boner-Cast definitely heard more than enough about how respected and happy Jean felt about Marco being invested in Jean’s religion and culture.

  

   “Augh, seriously Jeanbo, enough!”  Eren whined, as he set off the boner cannon for what had to be the tenth time during that particular Tuesday podcast.  Jean tossed his beanie at him, glaring in annoyance, but unable to really argue.  Connie had tuned out a while ago apparently, texting someone quickly, before slapping his phone down on the table with a triumphant caw.

 

   “Guess what broners!  We’re having a Christmas party!”  Connie sang, pushing his phone closer to Eren and Jean so they could read his texts.  While Eren cheered, his own phone raised in victory, Jean leaned back and scowled uselessly.

   “Did you not just fucking hear what I said, shit-for-brains?  I’m fucking Jewish, why would I want to attend a goddamn Christmas party?”  Connie just laughed, as Eren shoved the phone directly underneath Jean’s nose.  His eyes crossed as he tried to read what was written, batting it away as he pulled his own phone out.  Jean had put it on silent earlier (see, he’s a professional!), and the approximately 30 unread messages confirmed it was all within their group chat.

 

   “Don’t be such a spoilsport horseface, we just wanna have some fun,” Eren laughed, earning a swift punch and another glare.  Connie then had the gall to set off the boner cannon, making Eren squawk, and the two of them started arguing almost immediately about something that Jean really wasn’t interested in.  What he was interested in was the texts that he hadn’t read.

 

**Es tu casa**

> hey ya pile of dicks, guess whos coming back on the 22nd

**Saltykova**

>  Mika’s coming home!!!!!!!!!!!!!?

**Es tu casa**

>  ye annie i’m coming home

**Freckled asshole**  

> dos this mean we get to paaaaaaartay?

**Smol angel**  

> Ymmie!  don’t be so rude! can’t wait to see u again Mika!

**Es tu casa**  

> ye i want us to party

**Saltykova**  

> Okay everyone we’re having a goddamn party for our strong goddess’s return <3

**Freckled asshole**  

> hey watch who ur calling a goddess, historia’s the only goddess here

**Smol angel**  

> Ymir!  but yes Mika, we’ll definitely ahve a party for you when you come home!

**Saltykova**  

> The place with the most space is where those morons have that stupid podcast so i vote for that to be our party zone!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Baldbroner**  

> Hellz yea broners!  we totes guna partaaaaaaaay here!

**Jaegerbombroner**  

> tht mssg gave me cancer
> 
> but hell ye mikarin party @ the b-b-b-bone zone!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Potatobutt**  

> ok that message gave me cancer

**Tall dark and sweaty**  

> Reiner and I can bring food

**Potatobutt**  

> ahhhhhhhh to be working in catering ;-;  tell bossman i miss him<3

**Bara blond beefcake**  

> idk levi might have a aneurysm if he hears someone mention u sash
> 
> we can also bring drinks if u want

**Coconut He-Man jr**  

> How about the day before Christmas Eve?  That is, if it doesn’t clash with anyone else’s plans…

**Jaegerbombroner**  

> the only 1 who mite have plans is the horse

**Baldbroner**  

> Yea, he over da moon abt his new boytoy, won’t shut up abt him
> 
> Def bring alcohol Reiner!!! we gona need it

**Es tu casa**  

> tell him to bring the new boytoy

**Smol angel**  

> hey, since it’s so close to Christmas, y don’t we wear Christmasy sweaters???

**Freckled asshole**  

> m y goddess does it again<3

**Saltykova**  

> I actually think that’s a good idea!!!!!!!!  well if Mika thinks so

**Es tu casa**  

> ye tht sounds good

**Saltykova**  

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mika I can’t wait for you to get home safe <3

**Es tu casa**  

> ye can’t wait to see u annie <3

**Baldbroner**  

> Oh grody not u guys to!

**Me**  

> do I not get any say in this?

**Baldbroner**  

> No!!! 

**Jaegerbombroner**  

> no

**Potatobutt**  

> nope!

**Saltykova**  

> no

**Freckled asshole**  

> no

**Smol angel**  

> sorry Jean! but no

**Tall dark and sweaty**  

> No

**Bara blond beefcake**  

> fuck no xD

**Es tu casa**  

> bring ur new boytoy

**Coconut He-Man jr**  

> Majority vote says no, sorry Jean.

**Me**  

> fuck all of u w/ a rake

**Freckled asshole**  

> kinky but still no

**Me**  

> not an offer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! u kno better than that

**Jaegerbombroner**  

> ye she knos but dos ur boytoy kno?

**Me**  

> fuck u twice as hard

 

* * *

 

   It wasn’t that Jean had been avoiding this particular topic with Marco...But he’d been avoiding it.  Which, while surprisingly easy to do, was actually probably very bad for their relationship.  Instead of just saying that he just plain wasn’t sexually attracted to anything, Jean had told Marco that he wasn’t ready to have sex, when the topic had sort of come up (if Marco grinding into him with an impressive bulge in his pants and pressing him against a wall was close to the topic coming up, that is).  Marco had apologized profusely, thinking that maybe Jean had felt pressured by him, and that just made Jean not want to talk about it at all ever again.  He couldn’t help but start thinking that it would all end the same as his past relationships had ended, in anger and frustration and heartbreak.

 

   Jean had tried to tell the people he’d dated in the past about his sexuality.  There had been Samuel (never Sam), Thomas (only sometimes Tom), and Mina.  None of them really understood, until they forced him into very uncomfortable situations, and then their relationships had devolved from there until one of them said they were done.  Hell, Thomas had broken up with him the minute after Jean had said he was asexual, stating that he wasn’t going to date someone who was “broken”.  That had probably been the most painful one for Jean, and he’d spent a week sitting alone in his apartment, even ignoring his alerts and texts about Boner-Cast needing to go on.  When Eren, Ymir, and Connie had finally raided his apartment to make sure he was even alive, the four of them had all gotten drunk together (at least, Jean drank like a fish, he wasn’t sure about the other three) and Jean poured his heart out.  When all was said and done, Eren, Ymir and Connie all put extra effort into reminding Jean that he was NOT broken, in any way.  So, experience told Jean to keep this hidden for as long as possible.

 

* * *

 

   Everyone knows that Jean is a lazy piece of shit, so it was no wonder he’d wait until the last minute to get a stupid sweater for Mikasa’s party.  He doubted they’d really want to toss him out of the party for not wearing being up to Historia’s dress code, but he wasn’t going to put it past anyone (especially not after Ymir had tossed him out of a pool party for not wearing sandals).  And, well...Jean still hated the principle of Christmas, but he kept noticing how Marco’s eyes were drawn to other people when they were out, possibly because they were dressed festively?  Was Marco tired of his Grinchy attitude?  So it was with the tiniest tinge of anxiety that Jean decided to ask Marco for help.  Or, well, demand it, early that Sunday, mere hours before Mikasa’s party.

 

   “Hey freckles, we’re going shopping,” Jean yawned in the direction of his phone, stretching his arms above him.  There was a garbled sort of answer on the other end, and Jean assumed it was an affirmation, as he continued.  “Yeah, I need a Christmas sweater, and you have a thing for them yeah?  Help me pick one out for Mikasa’s party.”  Something thumped on the other end of the line, followed immediately by a yelp and several hushed swears that made Jean want to grin.

 

   “You okay over there?”  He laughed slightly, wiggling into his pants and rummaging around for wherever he’d tossed his deodorant the day before.  Another garbled answer that Jean took as a positive response followed, and he nodded in the direction of the phone.

   “Alright, I’ll be over there in ten, and we can go get a sweater for me that’s not too tacky, and then head straight to the party.  Seeya soon sweets.”  With that, Jean slapped the bar on the touchscreen to hang up before Marco could disagree.

 

   It had become customary for Jean to invade Marco’s apartment on Sundays, and had been for the past three months they’d been dating.  It was the only way that Marco would get out of bed the entire day, and plus, with both of their busy schedules throughout the week, it was one of the few days the pair could spend together.  So there was no reason for Jean to hesitate at Marco’s door, yet he did so today, wondering if today was a good day to breach the subject of having sex.  Hell, how do you even go about telling someone you’ve been head over heels for the past five months that you don’t want sex, ever?  If Mrs Zeramuski and her son Mylius hadn’t left their apartment and startled Jean out of his thoughts, he possibly would’ve stood there all day.  With a quick wave to the both of them, Jean hurried inside, breathing a sigh of relief as he took in the familiar sight of Marco’s messy apartment.

 

   If Jean wasn’t feeling queasy at the thought of food, he would raid Marco’s kitchen, but as it was, after locking the door behind him, Jean made a beeline straight to Marco’s room.  “Wake your lazy ass up babe, we aren’t gettin’ any younger,” Jean called, being courteous enough to knock loudly before barging right in two seconds later.  Stretched out across his bed, Marco was snoring softly still, but Jean’s eyes focused on his long legs, clad in rainbow thigh highs.  Jean tried to tear his eyes away, feeling his face heating up, only for his eyes to land on Marco’s plump, round ass, framed temptingly by the jockstrap he was wearing.  Eyes wider than a dinner plate, Jean immediately turned right back around, slammed the bedroom door behind him, and hid himself in the kitchen.

 

   It’s not like Jean didn’t KNOW his boyfriend was hot, but...Damn, his boyfriend’s hot.  Jean knows he’s being silly, hiding away like a little kid walking in on someone half naked, but he can’t help it, his face still flaming.  Jean can hear dazed little noises (the sort that Marco makes as he actually starts to wake up) coming from the bedroom, as he shakes himself out of his embarrassment.  They’ve been dating for five months, why the hell is he embarrassed?  Marco knew Jean was on his way over, so...Oh god, was Marco trying to use this as a come-on?  Anxious about this new thought, Jean tried to shake it off by rummaging around in Marco’s fridge, eventually pulling out the jug of orange juice.  

 

   “Jean…?”  Marco mumbled sleepily, shuffling around into the kitchen just as Jean was about to sip his stolen orange juice.  Jean ignored him in favor of orangey goodness, and regretted it as he choked when Marco came into view.  Still wearing the thigh highs, only now Marco had thrown on a giant, puke-green sweater with what appeared to be a black and white cat with a Santa hat on it, as well as a pair of shorts that almost brushed his knees.  Jean coughed the juice out of his windpipe, Marco vaguely attempting to pat his back to help, and roughly put the jug down onto the counter.  Jean squinted at Marco suspiciously as he scooped up the orange juice and sipped straight from the jug as well.

 

   “Freckles, what the hell are you wearing?  We’ve gotta go get stupid Christmas sweaters,” Jean grumbled, glaring a hole into Marco’s cat sweater as if it had personally offended him (it definitely had).  Marco yawned widely, one hand rubbing at his eyes in a way that was unfairly cute.  “Though it looks like you already have your stupid sweater ready,”  Jean added, scooping up the now abandoned jug of orange juice and taking a quick gulp, internally cheering at not choking again.

 

   “I’ve got plenty, we don’t need to go sh-sh-shooooooopping,” Marco yawned, before slowly turning towards his bathroom.  Jean frowned intensely as he shoved the jug back into the fridge, stopping Marco for a quick good morning smooch.  “Dude, you wear a large, it’ll look even stupider on me,” He whined, Marco’s arms quickly wrapping around him for a snuggly, sleepy hug before he could protest.  Marco hummed into Jean’s neck before shaking his head slightly.  “Nahhhh, you’ll just look even cuter than usual.”

 

   Before Jean could protest even more, Marco was dragging him back towards his bedroom.  Jean felt his anxiety spike the tiniest bit, breathing an equally tiny sigh of relief when Marco dropped his hand to pull open his closet doors.  “Pick one out while I go brush my teeth and stuff,” Marco mumbled, waving his hands vaguely as he left Jean and the sweater collection alone.  A very, very large ugly Christmas sweater collection.

 

   Jean’s eyebrows were scraping his hairline by the time he’d flipped through all the sweaters that were hanging up, only to find more folded neatly and stacked up on shelves behind the wall of sweaters.  There were several duplicates of the same sweater (one of them more worn looking than the other), or different colors of the same style, and it was kind of maddening.  Jean even spotted a few Hanukkah-themed ugly sweaters, immediately picking those ones out to try on.  Eventually, there was a small stack of sweaters for Jean to try, and with a sigh he replaced the Hanukkah-themed ones (Ymir would definitely toss him out if he wore one of those, Historia had specifically said Christmas sweaters).

 

   With only two sweaters he was mildly interested in, Jean moved very slowly as he slung his own shirt off to try them on.  One of them had a big golden bow wrapping around it, the other had patches with silly characters slightly mangled in each patch with pompoms all down the front.  

   As he was about to (halfheartedly) put the first sweater on, Marco waltzed back in, towel wrapped around his waist.  Both of them froze, eyes wide (Marco’s skittering over Jean’s pale chest, Jean’s firmly focused on a point just over Marco’s shoulder), before Marco quickly grabbed clean clothes, and smiled thinly at Jean as he left the room.  Feeling unnecessarily embarrassed, Jean hurried to tug his shirt back on, glaring at the two sweaters.  Surely they could wrangle their ways out of wearing stupid Christmas sweaters?  With a slight laugh, Jean snatched up both sweaters and hurried out of the room, bopping straight into Marco in the hallway, and grabbing a plastic bag to throw both of the sweaters into.

 

   “C’mon, we should get there early to help set up,” Jean called, itching to get out of the apartment.  Marco grumbled under his breath about his sweaters being everywhere, but followed him out, patting his pockets for his phone and keys before locking up behind them.  “I picked out a sweater for you too, so don’t worry freckled jesus,” Jean added, almost hip checking Marco into the other side of the narrow hallway.  He laughs, shaking his head at Jean’s nicknames and his own lack of balance, and laces their hands together.

 

Yeah, tonight’s gonna be a good night, Jean thinks, pausing at the staircase to swipe a quick kiss from Marco.


	2. Rising Action

   It’s not like it was the first time Marco had ever been to the podcast studio.  In fact, on their second date, Marco had insisted on going to the studio, after listening to sound bytes from the podcast he’d accidentally called in on.  And it’s also not the first time Marco’s met Jean’s friends before (well, except for Mikasa, she’s been studying abroad for the past two years).  But, today felt different to him, especially with the knowledge that everyone would be wandering around in ugly Christmas sweaters.  Plus, Jean was being a lot more quiet than usual, which was starting to worry Marco.  He’d been acting normally up until this morning...What exactly was going through his boyfriend’s head?  As they finally got to the studio’s back entrance, Jean finally shook the plastic bag that he’d been carrying, an annoyed look on his face.

 

   “Alright freckles, you pick which one ‘cause they’re technically your sweaters,”  He grumbled, shaking the bag even more vigorously each time Marco tried to take the bag from him.  Jean’s frown soon turns into a grin, waving the bag further out of Marco’s reach until they’re twisted up together, laughter bubbling up from both of them.  Finally Marco’s fingers graze the plastic bag just as he pulls Jean close for a quick kiss and a murmured “please” against his lips, and Jean lets him have the bag.  Triumphantly, Marco snatches the bag out of Jean’s grasp, immediately digging in to find out which which sweaters Jean had grabbed.

 

   When Marco felt the fuzz of what he knew to be a golden pompom, he knew he was fucked.  A little more feeling around, and what he knew to be a golden satin bow, he knew he was doubly fucked.  It took more than half of his willpower to keep himself from groaning as he pulled the two sweaters out from the plastic bag.  Either would look really good on Jean...He fidgeted anxiously, trying to banish the thought of slowly unwrapping Jean from the one with the bow, tossing the pompom’d one at his beau.

 

   “The pompoms will bring out your eyes,” Marco laughed cheekily, as Jean sputtered and caught the sweater before it would land on the ground.  “Plus, this one’s an extra large, and you didn’t want to wear one that was too big, yeah?”  He added, tugging the sweater with the bow over his head to hide the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.  Jean made some sort of grumbly agreement noises (similar to his own morning agreement noises), as Marco straightened out the bow on his sweater, forcing another smile onto his face.  Jean hadn’t pulled his sweater on, which Marco was mildly thankful for, but he led the way into the studio with a sigh of “this better be fun”.

 

* * *

  
  


   “Fun” probably shouldn’t have been the word that Jean used.  Within five minutes of his and Marco’s arrival, Ymir had already attempted to throw him out once for not wearing a sweater, and Eren was already halfway to plastered (if Armin’s apologetic noises were to be listened to) on the shitty booze that Reiner and Bertholdt had been able to bring from work.  Mikasa still wasn’t here yet, Annie had volunteered to pick her up from the airport, and they probably wouldn’t get there for another ten minutes...And Marco was looking distinctly more distressed as the night continued, especially after Connie had loudly pointed out that one of the pompoms on Jean’s sweater was right at crotch height.

 

   By the time Mikasa arrived, Jean was already reaching the end of his very short fuse.  Eren and Connie were constantly setting off the boner cannon when he and Marco were near each other, Historia and Sasha had grabbed the tiny ‘gift tag’ from Marco’s sweater and were tossing glitter and writing on it with gel pens, and Ymir and Reiner were having a very aggressive drinking contest, mediated by Bertholdt.  Armin and Marco were watching everything happen as if it was a train wreck (which, in Jean’s opinion, was a very accurate comparison).  Annie and Mikasa had barely gotten their coats off before Jean was giving them goodbye hugs, mumbling that he’s sorry they couldn’t stick around longer.  Mika, bless her soul, understood immediately, only quickly grabbing Marco into a hug and whispering something in his ear that made him go very pale very fast.  Before Jean could tug him out the door though, Ymir had somehow stumbled her way over to them and had her arm around Marco’s shoulders.

 

   “Eyyyy, freckled buddy!”  She crowed, and Jean could smell the whiskey off of her from ten feet away.  Marco looked appropriately frightened, giving her a shakey smile that was returned with a very terrifying sharklike grin.  “So lemme ask you somethin’,” she slurred, pulling herself a bit more upright as she looked Marco very seriously in the eyes.  “Your dick’s perfectly happy that it won’t be seein’ much interpersonal action, yea?  ‘Cause it’s gonna be seein’ less than a grody-ass pubescent teen.”

 

   Jean felt the color drain from his face, as someone set off the boner cannon again.  Jean flailed at Ymir, knocking her arm off of Marco’s shoulders, and snarled at her to keep her goddamn nose out of other people’s business.  Marco looked more than sufficiently confused and horrified, much to Jean’s chagrin, as Annie dragged Ymir away and Mikasa profusely apologized.  While the apologies were appreciated, they fell on deaf ears as Jean dragged Marco out, both of them feeling as though they’d fought in a war just to escape.  They were silent as they headed back to Marco’s apartment, both of them anxious for very different reasons.

 

* * *

  
  


   By the time they had gotten to Marco’s door, Jean had decided he’d have to tell Marco today.  Right now, before he lost his nerve.  Marco smiled hesitantly as he opened his front door, gesturing for Jean to join him.  As Jean slipped past him, he heard Marco mumble something unintelligible, but sounded like ‘somethingsomething tell you’.  The two of them stood in the middle of the living room, Marco seeming to try very hard to keep his eyes on Jean’s face, and just as the silence was starting to become awkward, Marco made his move, crashing his lips into Jean’s with way too much force.

 

   It was...Different, different was definitely a good word for it.  Jean was still mentally trying to figure out how to talk to Marco, so he wasn’t completely ‘there’ for it, and Marco seemed to be throwing his all into this makeout session.  Which is how, with very little resistance, Jean’s back was pressed against the wall closest to Marco’s bedroom, and he could feel the very hard line of Marco’s body against him.  Marco’s lips trailed down from Jean’s to his neck, kissing and sucking gently, and he let out a small whimpering noise at the feeling.  Hesitantly, Marco rolled his hips against him, and Jean froze.  Similar scenarios from the past all replayed in his mind in a split second, and immediately Jean wiggled to try and put distance between them.  

 

   “Waitwaitwait!” Jean squeaked against Marco’s ear, panic quickly chewing away any pleasant feelings he had at the moment.  Marco froze against him, unfortunately with his hips flush against Jean’s, and Jean could definitely feel that Marco was more than a little turned on.  Blushing fiercely, but determined, Jean pushed Marco back gently, who sprung back as though he had been burned.  Jean couldn’t help the guilt he felt burning in the pit of his belly as he watched Marco calm himself a bit, his pupils blown out completely as he tugged at the stupid sweater he was wearing to cover his visible erection.  They both stood there, panting slightly, before Marco sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

 

   “There was...Something I had wanted to tell you…”  Marco mumbled, his eyes dropping from Jean’s, focusing on something a little to the left of Jean’s waist.  Jean waited, it became increasingly clear that Marco really didn’t want to say whatever it was.  With another sigh, hands balling up the hem of his stupid sweater, Marco finally continued.  “So, I uhm...Have this...Thing…”  He hesitated again, eyes flickering up to look at Jean quickly before darting away again.  And this, above all else, was the reason why Jean kept quiet.  He hated the feeling of wanting to explain, but not having the words to do so, of not knowing how the other would react.  Even though he was pretty sure what Marco was trying to tell him wasn’t going to be like what he was trying to tell Marco, but the feeling has to be similar, right?  

 

   “This thing?”  Jean prompted him, willing his arms to not cross and close him off to the conversation.  He’d listen, just like how he’d want to be listened to, even as Marco fidgeted in front of him awkwardly, and the stupid itchy sweater that he’d borrowed was starting to get on his nerves as well.  “Ugh, first let me take this dumb sweater off, this is ridiculous.”  Jean grumbled, glaring at the stupid pompoms.  Before Jean could get it halfway off, Marco’s hands had shot out to stop him, face redder than a tomato with his freckles standing out.  Jean raised an eyebrow as he inched it up higher, and Marco whined slightly.  “It looks really good on you...You look so hot right now…”  Marco mumbled, hiding his face in his hands.  

 

   “But it’s itchyyyyy,” Jean whined, pulling the sweater off anyways.  Marco peaked through his fingers and mumbled something.  Jean rolled his eyes and pulled Marco’s hands away from his bright red face.  “Now, what’s the thing you wanted to tell me, babe?  You know you can tell me anything,”  Jean said, soothingly rubbing little circles into Marco’s wrists.  Marco just whined some more, as Jean pulled him into a gentle hug, making reassuring noises as he patted Marco’s back.  They swayed in silence, Jean wondering if he should just tell him...Until Marco finally sighed and blurted out what he had been holding back.

 

   “OkaysoIhaveathingaboutChristmassweatersandgoingtothepartywasanightmare, ohmygodIwashardbasicallytheentiretime, andholyfuckyoulookedsohot, I’msorry.”  Marco babbled out, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than Jean’s brain could process them.  Marco snapped his mouth shut, ducking his head down against Jean’s shoulder as he whined once again.

   “So hang on a sec,” Jean said slowly, swaying them slightly as he thought, Marco lifting his head from Jean’s shoulder.  “You have a...Fetish thing?  For Christmas sweaters?”  Marco looked extremely guilty as he nodded, his freckles disappearing in how red his face had gotten.  Jean hummed thoughtfully and mumbled “that’s an actual thing?  Maybe I could research that…”

 

   Marco frowned slightly, eyebrows crunching up in annoyance.  “Wait, that’s it?  You just want to research?”  He asked incredulously.  What sort of reaction was that?  Jean shrugged, grumbling “How did you want me to respond?  You can’t really help what turns you on, and it’d just be a dick move to react negatively to it, yeah?”.  Jean wasn’t sure if that was a good answer, but he knew that’s how he hoped Marco would react when he finally spit out that he doesn’t...He’s never...He’s not gonna…

 

   Marco blinked rapidly a few times (and yes he would deny that his eyes had gotten glassy), before kissing Jean with all he had.  Jean let out a tiny surprised noise, relaxing into Marco’s arms and lips, smiling slightly.  If Marco needed a bit of reassuring that it was fine, then Jean was willing to deliver...At least, until Marco’s hands dipped into his jeans, pulling their hips closer together, and yup Jean could definitely feel that Marco was still hard.  Jean reached back to pull Marco’s hands out of his pants, mumbling “wait wait hang on”, knowing that since Marco was brave, it was his turn to be brave now.  Marco’s kisses tapered off slowly, until they were nose to nose and staring at each other cross-eyed.  Jean swallowed down his fear, and finally whispered “there’s something I gotta tell you too,” his voice oh so tiny and anxious.  Marco hummed, waiting for Jean to continue, much the same way that Jean had waited for him before.

 

   “I...Well, I don’t...You see…” Jean huffed in frustration, how the fuck do you get words out?  Marco frowned slightly, rubbing his hands up and down Jean’s arms in what he hoped was a comforting manner.  Annoyed at himself, Jean grabbed Marco’s hands in his own, and almost soundlessly breathed “I’m...Asexual, okay?”

   Marco tilted his head slightly, the blank look on his face an obvious indication that he hadn’t heard what Jean had tried to say.  “Uhm...What?”  Marco asked, and Jean fucking panicked.

 

   “I’m asexual, I don’t fuck I don’t get aroused I’m sorry that’s not how it works for me.”  Jean practically yelled, dropping Marco’s hands and twisting his own together against his chest.  Marco’s eyes widened comically as he realized that, oh shit, he’d been making his boyfriend uncomfortable the entire fucking time.  “O-oh…” Marco whispered, staring at the ground in mild shock.  How terrible of a person do you have to be to not realize your boyfriend’s uncomfortable, Marco berated himself, not realizing that Jean was freaking out right in front of him.

 

   “Uhm, I’m gonna...I’m sorry I’m gonna go I didn’t mean to...Fuck I’m sorry,” Jean mumbled, making a beeline for the front door.  The horrified look on Marco’s face was plain as day, and all Jean could hear was Thomas’ voice from years ago whispering ‘I can’t date anyone that’s broken’.  He slammed the apartment door behind him, listening for half a second to hear if Marco was going to come after him...It didn’t sound like it...Jean shook his head violently, ignoring the burning in his eyes as he booked it out of the building, ignoring the cold and ducking into a liquor store on his way home.  

 

* * *

 

 

   It felt like centuries later, even though the clock on Jean’s wall read 4:05am (it was Christmas eve, he remembered vaguely, Marco would be spending the day at his parent’s place) as he slowly scrounged around for an unopened bottle of whiskey.  “Fuck Christmas,” he slurred, tipping dangerously to one side as he tried to avoid the couch in his living room.  He didn’t avoid the couch, in fact he ran straight into it, flipping onto the cushions ungracefully.  He didn’t move for a long time, letting the tears flow more freely than he had on the way home.  At least at home, he didn’t give a shit at all that his face was smeared with tears and snot, and that his face was a blotchy red.  


	3. Climax

   Marco felt as though someone had pulled the floor out from underneath him.  Not only did his boyfriend accept his (quite frankly strange) fetish with little more than a shrug, but for all this time, he had been putting his boyfriend into shitty situations without even realizing it.  Fuck, why didn’t Marco see this sooner?  He always felt Jean freezing up when Marco’s hands drifted underneath clothes, or when their hips were too close...God, why couldn’t Marco think for once!  So he didn’t stop Jean as he hurried out of his apartment, mumbling too lowly for him to hear.  When the door closed, Marco tore off the stupid sweater he was still wearing, bundling it and the one Jean had abandoned into identical balls, shoving them as far away from him as possible.  With a heavy sigh, Marco mumbled “I really fucked up”, raking his hands through his hair as he paced.  

 

   Was pacing going to solve his and Jean’s problems?  Definitely not, but it gave him something to do, instead of sprinting after Jean and begging on his hands and knees to be forgiven.  Maybe Jean would appreciate that though...No, Marco thought ruefully, remembering the apology jar that Jean insisted on him paying into, even when he really did need to apologize.  He fiddled with his phone, wondering if texting one of Jean’s friends would be helpful...They knew him longer than Marco did, and maybe they would know how to fix things?  Or at least help him think of a good way to apologize...Nodding decisively, Marco quickly scrolled through his contacts, trying to remember who was the most sober when they’d left the party, and who would be most likely to know about Jean’s sexuality.  Obviously Ymir knew something, but she was (most likely) too drunk to respond to a text, and while Marco liked Historia well enough, he wasn’t sure if she knew, and he didn’t want to unintentionally out Jean when it seemed he was trying to not bring his sexuality to light.  Maybe his podcast buddies...

 

**Me**

> I think I really screwed up

**Connie Springer**

> wat happned

**Me**

> Jean told me something but I think he thinks I took it in a negative way
> 
> Idk for sure but he left really quickly after telling me

**Connie Springer**

> jean told u he dnt do mor than canoodle

**Me**

> So you know he’s…

**Connie Springer**

> asexy i kno surprised he told u so soon
> 
> u thnk u fuked up

**Me**

> I think so? I’m not entirely sure though. He ran out of here after he told me…

**Connie Springer**

> ye u fuked up
> 
> y rn’t u talking to him rn

**Me**

> I don’t want to make him uncomfortable than I already have

**Connie Springer**

> look u gota go make this better
> 
> go talk to him
> 
> if he dosn’t want u there hell tell u

**Me**

> I think I will. Sorry for bugging you so late

**Connie Springer**

> np 
> 
> Jean cares abt u a lot dnt fuk up
> 
> dnt be anothr Thomsas

 

* * *

  
  


   After several attempts at calling and texting Jean, Marco was getting anxious.  It was nearing 4am, it was now Christmas Eve, and he knew that Jean had stopped at the liquor store near his apartment complex (it had been a guess, poking into the small store and asking if a surly blond man with an undercut had been by).  Biting at his lip, Marco scrolled through their (very extensive) text conversation, trying to find the one text from a while ago that contained Jean’s address.  He wasn’t being creepy if he was going to check and make sure his boyfriend had made it home safely, was he?  No, no he wasn’t, and after finally finding Jean’s address in his phone, Marco was out the door in a second.

 

* * *

  
  


   Standing in front of Jean’s apartment at 4:47am was not how Marco thought his Christmas Eve would be, but here he was, anxiously fidgeting as he considered knocking.  A closed door shouldn’t be this intimidating, Marco thought, frowning as he checked his phone once again to make sure he had the apartment number right.  That’d be just fantastic, knocking on the wrong person’s door on Christmas Eve at fuck-it-all-AM.  Confirming that he was in front of the right door, Marco knocked gently and waited.  

 

   After five minutes passed (an appropriate length of time to wait for a door to be answered, he felt) and the door remained firmly shut, Marco knocked once more, a little harder.  Still no answer.  Was knocking three times excessive?  Was Jean just ignoring the door?  What if he wasn’t there?  Marco couldn’t help a frustrated groan, wondering if it was stupid to try and see Jean...But he had to at least apologize in person for being a fuck-up, right?

 

 

**Me**

> Sorry to bother you again, but do you know if Jean has a spare key anywhere?

**Connie Springer**

> ymir has it

**Me**

> Thank you!

  
  
  


**Me**

> Hey Ymir, I know it’s really late/early, but I need Jean’s spare key, since he isn’t answering

**Ymir**

> adkfojrgioearly

**Me**

> I know, I’m sorry!  But please I need it

**Ymir**

> akjgroitjyd u try the knob

**Me**

> I’m pretty sure that Jean would lock it…

**Ymir**

> try it

  
  


   Sighing loudly, but really not wanting to piss off a probably hungover Ymir, Marco turned the knob, even more concerned when the door easily opened.  “Jean?” Marco whisper-called into the dark apartment, ready to spring back into the hallway if he was yelled at.  A quiet snore was all that answered, and Marco couldn’t help a tiny smile.  Jean always complained about Marco’s snoring, of course Jean had to snore as well.  Without thinking, Marco inched his way inside, and flipped on the overhead light, squinting in the sudden brightness as he closed the door behind him.  He couldn’t help the small gasp that crawled out his throat as he was able to see without squinting.

 

   The living room looked like a tornado had it, the normally sparsely decorated room in disarray.  Marco knew that Jean’s linen closet had to be empty now, as he carefully stepped around blankets and pillows that were now littered everywhere, the strong smell of whiskey making his nose crinkle.  There was a tipped over, mostly empty bottle near the couch that Jean was sprawled out upon, snoring up a storm.  Marco knew he shouldn’t feel this endeared by the destruction caused by an upset Jean, but he couldn’t help the warmth that he felt, even as he almost tripped to death on more floor blankets.

 

   Marco bit his lip as he scooped up the open bottle of whiskey, not entirely sure of what he should do.  The way Jean was laying didn’t look comfortable at all (had he fallen and passed out?), and the small puddle of whiskey would be a slipping hazard when Jean finally woke up...So, as quietly as possible, Marco set about cleaning up the place.  Dry blankets were folded and placed back in the linen closet, others that were damp from spilled whiskey were piled into a laundry basket, pillows placed in their proper spots.  Soon, the only evidence of Jean’s drunken wreckage was the lingering smell of whiskey (the puddle of whiskey wiped up) and Jean himself.  

 

   When Marco’s phone buzzed it made him almost jump out of his skin, immediately slapping at it to make it shut up.  It was just an alarm, telling him it was time to head off to his parents’ house, but he couldn’t just leave.  His eyes were burning from being awake for so long, and he really didn’t trust himself on the road, let alone walking back to his own place.  Instead, he slowly thumbed out a text to let his mom know that he may be a bit later than he had told them yesterday.  Marco still really didn’t want to leave Jean, even though he probably didn’t even know Marco was here at all.  So he decided to write up a quick note asking Jean to call him when he woke, a glass of water, and some pain meds for when Jean inevitably woke up.  Marco took care to lock the door firmly behind him, and stumbled his way home.  He definitely needed at least two cups of coffee before attempting to go visit his family.

  
  


**Me**

> Ymir, would you be so kind as to check on Jean sometime later today?  He’s in his apartment, but I didn’t want to wake him

**Ymir**

> blergh sure

**Me**

> Thank you so much!! ^-^ I owe you one

 

* * *

  
  


**Eren Jaeger**

> bro u ded

**Me**

> Eren? What? Is Jean okay???

**Eren Jaeger**

> u dumped him didnt u

**Me**

> ????????? No????? Why on earth would I dump him? What’s going on?

**Eren Jaeger**

> lst time he was like this was wen he was dumped
> 
> 4 bein asex
> 
> u didnt dump him

**Me**

> God no! Last night we had a bit of a misunderstanding, but I wouldn’t dump him over that
> 
> I felt terrible after he told me, but I didn’t want him to think I was forcing him to do anyhting, so I let him go

**Eren Jaeger**

> k
> 
> u ned 2 talk w/ him

**Me**

> I know, did he see the note I left for him this morning?

**Eren Jaeger**

> idk
> 
> ymir was here b4 me
> 
> Jean woke up a bit ago

**Me**

> Can you pass on a message from me at least?

**Eren Jaeger**

> idk if he’ll listen

**Me**

> Even if he doesn’t, just tell him that I’m sorry for our misunderstanding last night, and that I really hope he calls me
> 
> Please?

**Eren Jaeger**

> k

**Me**

> Thank you!

 

* * *

 

  
  
   When Marco returned home, still slightly jittery from all the caffeine he ingested throughout the day to remain awake, he could say with quite a bit of certainty that going to his parents’ house for Christmas Eve wasn’t a good choice.  Too many family members crammed into the tiny two bedroom home he’d grown up in, several whining about not meeting his boyfriend, others openly scoffing at him and quoting Bible verses with venomous voices...Yeah, Marco definitely would’ve preferred spending Christmas Eve somewhere else.  And on top of it, he hadn’t heard from Jean or any of their mutual friends all day.  It was setting his frazzled nerves on edge even more, the waiting.  Marco glanced at the clock (8:09pm), and decided he’d give Jean some space and time...With a loud yawn, Marco let himself flop onto his own couch, and was out like a light within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhh there's a lot of text conversation in this chapter x.x


	4. The Gift Of Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally these morons semi-communicate  
> (At least, Jean gets to read the note that Marco left for him)

   Jean’s mouth was stuffed with cotton.  Or, at least, it felt like it.  The sound of a door -- opening?  Closing?  He wasn’t sure -- had roused him slightly.  He groaned, feeling all the aches and pains from passing out (and, consequently, sleeping) strangely on his couch, a pounding headache not making things any better either.  A very familiar voice crashed into his ears loudly:  “Wake the fuck up ponyboy, your boy may feel sympathy for your drunk ass, but after getting texts at fuck-it-o’clock, I’m shit out of sympathy.”

 

   There was another door sound (the closing of it, Jean now assumed), followed by a pillow suddenly thumping against his head, making his already pained self see fucking stars.  All Jean could do was groan again, much louder than before, swearing quietly under his breath.  Which actually smelled really terrible, how did he even sleep earlier?  Gross.  Ymir barked out a short laugh at his expense, and started tromping around the room like a herd of elephants.  Definitely not good for poor Jean’s head, which was now starting to internally cleave itself into small fragments.

 

   “Ffffffffffffffuck off Ymir,” Jean whined, slowly unfurling from his precarious position of half on the couch and half suspended in midair by spite alone.  Ymir snorted, and continued making more noise than necessary, before calling from the kitchen in a singsong voice “Oooooo, it looks like he left you a love note when he was here!”

   Jean moved much faster than he should have, making him curse and whine, and he tripped over his own goddamn feet in his haste to see what Ymir was talking about.  Before he could get a look at the note, Ymir was shoving a glass of water (did he not hear the sink running?) and some pills that he assumed were for pain into his hands, gladly shoving them down his throat.  The water tasted weird, like it had been sitting all night, and Jean narrowed his eyes at the note, nervousness preventing him from actually leaning forward to look at it.  What would Marco have written to Jean?  Was it a break up note?  No, it couldn’t have been, or Ymir would be screeching up a storm.

 

   “Are you gonna read it, or do I have to read it to you?”  Ymir asked bluntly, making Jean jump as he focused on her.  She looked really fucking pissed and tired, and he vaguely remembered her being extremely drunk the last he’d seen her at the party...Where she had referenced his sexuality in front of his unknowing boyfriend...Which had caused him to get into this mess.  Ymir raised a brow as the expression on Jean’s face slowly changed from annoyance and pain to anger, his hands slowly balling into fists at his side.  “What?”  She asked, completely not expecting Jean to shoulder his way past her back into the living room.

 

   “Go home, Ymir.”  Jean mumbled, face planting back onto his couch.  He was so not up for any of this right now.  He could practically feel her eyes narrow at him as he lazily flipped her off, and for a second he worried that she’d pounce on him and twist his arm until he apologized like she normally did (hungover or not).  But apparently she took pity upon him, as all Ymir did was sigh and crumple something up before muttering “fine you shitsack, stew in your own muck for all I care”.  As she thundered to the door, Jean waved his hand lazily in farewell, listening only barely for the telltale noise of the door locking behind her, before letting himself fall asleep again.

 

* * *

  

   Jean was only about halfway awake when someone knocked on his door, and all he wanted to do was curse them out for interrupting his very important sleep and wallowing.  He had drowsily read the texts Marco had sent him (all very similar variations of “I’m sorry we need to talk call me”), and all he could think of was that this “talk” would end with him being formally dumped.  Jean didn’t even bother to check the voicemails, aftering seeing all the missed calls he had were from Marco alone, figuring they’d be similar variants of Marco’s texts.  God, what if Marco had already broken up with him in the voicemails?  Was Jean even worth more than a phone call?

 

   Just as Jean was going to let himself fall into another pity party, whomever was at the door decided to knock even louder and shout “C’mon horseface, get your lazy ass off your couch”.  Of course it just had to be Jaeger, Jean thought miserably, dragging himself over to the door to unlock it.  Eren threw the door open when he heard it unlock, and took in the distinctly disheveled appearance of his usually well-kept friend with a lot of concern.  The last time Jean had looked so bad (not even bothering to conceal his red rimmed, puffy eyes) was after Thomas...Eren’s hands reflexively balled into fists just remembering that bullshit, before launching himself directly into Jean for what might have been a hug.

 

   Jean let out a loud “oomph!”, a hand coming up to uncertainly pat at Eren’s back.  Had Marco changed their Facebook status or something?  Would the rest of his friends be coming over to throw a pity party for him?  Or was Eren just reacting to how terrible Jean knew he looked?  (At least he’d had the presence of mind earlier to scrub the snot and tears off of his face, so maybe he didn’t look too fucking gross.)  “Sup?”  Jean asked awkwardly, letting his hand fall when Eren finally let him go from the death-grip hug.  

 

   “Ymir asked me to come check on you, so here I am.  You look like shit,” Eren stated, slamming the door behind him and heading straight to Jean’s kitchen.  If Jean was as out of it as Ymir had implied when he was texted earlier, it was highly unlikely that Jean had eaten anything since the small snacks that Sasha and Connie had thrown together for Mikasa’s party last night.  Jean snorted at him and tried to follow him into the kitchen, but was denied with a gentle shove back into the living room.  Jean pouted and rolled his eyes, muttering about idiots in the kitchen, before settling back down onto the couch.

 

   “Wanna say what happened last night?”  Eren asked tentatively as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, and getting to work on pulling down pots and pans from Jean’s rarely touched cabinets.  Jean let out a whine, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes as he mumbled “You remember anything about last night?”

   When Eren made an affirmative noise, over the chiming of his text tone, Jean grumbled to himself about stupid metabolisms burning off alcohol faster than his, before continuing.  “Well, got back to Marco’s, and we...Talked a little bit.  Think he took my sexuality in a bad way, so I booked it, and spent the night here.”  Jean let his eyes wander around the suspiciously clean space, for the first time realizing it was much cleaner than he remembered it being before passing out last night…

 

   Suspicious, Jean wandered to his linen closet, surprised to see that his spare blankets and pillows were all neatly in place.  Then he followed his nose to the laundry basket at the edge of his bedroom, the whiskey he’d gotten smelling a lot more harshly now than it had last night.  Jean was faintly aware of Eren’s phone continuously chiming as he slowly headed back into the living room, trying to make sense of his surprisingly clean apartment.  Ymir wasn’t there long enough to pick up anything, let alone fold blankets...As if she’d even want to.

 

   “Eren, do you know if someone else was here, aside from Ymir?”  Jean asked, poking his head into the kitchen.  Eren had gotten a pot of something boiling on his stove (Jean assumed it was spaghetti), and was standing by the countering fiddling with his phone and a crumpled up piece of paper, a pensive look on his face.  Jean raised an eyebrow as Eren crunched his together in confusion, holding up the paper as he asked “Didya look at this here?”  When Jean shook his head slowly, Eren tossed the ball at him.  Of course, Jean was off his game and not expecting it, which meant that he tried desperately to catch the ball as it bounced off his chest and arms, where it then fell to the floor.  Eren tried to stifle his laughter at the betrayed look on Jean’s face as he stared at the paper on the floor, before he bent down and started smoothing it out.  Eren watched Jean’s face carefully as he read it, phone at the ready to text.

 

* * *

 

Jean 

I’m sorry about last night.  I know you took my silence when you told me about your sexuality as a bad thing, but trust me it wasn’t.  I was feeling guilty about how I had put you in shitty situations time and again, and didn’t want you to feel pressured into staying.  So I let you go.

Came by to make sure you were okay (you snore as well), cleaned up a little bit.  Feel better, and call me as soon as you can

Marco

 

* * *

 

   Jean stared at the note, vaguely aware of Eren’s incessant taptaptaping as he continued to text whomever it was.  So...Marco didn’t want to break up with him?  It was a misunderstanding to the extreme?  A timer went off, making Jean jump back and hiss in its general direction, as Eren laughed slightly.  “So, gonna go talk to him?”  Eren asked, fixing up two plates of spaghetti.  Jean frowned at the plate placed in front of him, nodding slightly even as he muttered “I’m such an idiot” almost too lowly for Eren to hear.  “So, call him up.”  Eren said simply, much too simply for Jean, who shook his head obstinately.

 

   “He’s a good guy, and this stupid mischegoss was my fault.”  Jean grumped moodily, stabbing at his food violently.  “Gonna talk to him in person, in the morning…”  Jean trailed off, glancing at the clock on the wall that his mom had insisted on him having (7:02pm).  Eren shrugged, eating his damn pasta and keeping his opinions to himself.  Jean drifted out of the kitchen after scarfing down his food (damn was he hungry), Eren grumbling about dishes while he cleaned up.  By the time Eren was done, Jean was once again laying on the couch, eyes closed.  Even though they butt heads all the fucking time, Eren was glad he was able to look out for Jean, even if it was just so that he’d owe him one (it was more than that, Eren knew, it was nice to have someone who’d take care of you and not put up with your bullshit).

 

   “Shit, ponyboy, Marco sounds like he’s dyin from not talking to you.”  Eren laughed, shaking his head as he opened the door.  “He definitely isn’t a thing like Thomas,” Eren added quietly, closing the door behind him.  Jean blinked, and mulled over Eren’s words, not sure if sleep would come to him tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mischegoss - A Yiddish word, meaning "a crazy, messed up situation".


	5. Conflict Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiiiiiinally these dorks really do talk.

   Jean really liked Christmas.  Genuinely, he did.  Somehow it’s never too cold, but cold enough to not melt the snow that’d (always) fallen the night before.  Plus, his family always ordered a metric ton of Chinese food to share.  But this year, he told his ma that he would be spending Christmas day with his boyfriend (probably indulging on Chinese food as well), so there wouldn’t be any grumbling about how cold the car is or how shitty the roads are.  It’s no wonder that Jean woke up feeling surprisingly optimistic about the day.  Even after he remembered that, yes, he would have to talk to Marco about their misunderstanding...He was pretty optimistic, even with only sleeping maybe two or three hours.  

 

   But like, not immediately, he figured, showering as slowly as possible.  He even contemplated making a large breakfast, before shoving a slice of toast in his mouth when he realized it was nearing noon.  But of course, Jean stalled even more by stopping at a takeout place and spending ten minutes looking through his and Marco’s texts to find what Marco liked best.  (General Tso’s chicken with fried rice for him, and shrimp with garlic sauce for Jean, and they’d split an order of steamed vegetable dumplings.  Technically Jean didn’t keep kosher, but he didn’t particularly like the taste of pork, and Marco didn’t care either way, so vegetable dumplings it was.)

 

   By the time Jean had stopped stalling, it was nearing 2pm, and he was once again hesitating in front of Marco’s apartment, but this time with a peace offering that was steadily leaking grease onto his pants.  Incidentally, it was once again Mrs. Zeramuski and her son Mylius that caused Jean to kick his ass into gear, a little wave and a mumbled “merry christmas” in their direction (and deciding that if things went well today, that he’d definitely owe them a thank you card).  Instead of just barging in like he had on Sunday, Jean knocked politely and waited a surprisingly short amount of time before the door swung open, revealing a very tired looking Marco, who immediately perked up upon opening the door.

 

   “Can we talk?”  Jean asked, smiling hesitantly, and slightly lifting up the bag he was carrying.  Marco nodded rapidly, a mumbled “of course” making Jean’s smile a little less hesitant.  There was a small amount of awkwardness, obviously, Marco stepping back a bit too much and Jean skirting around him a bit further than they would’ve days earlier, but they both felt like it was definitely a step in the right direction.  Jean wasn’t sure why he was surprised that Marco’s kitchen was exactly the same as it had been on Sunday (aside from a few more things in the sink than he remembered).  He watched as Marco pulled down plates that he insisted on using, like the fucking weirdo he was, even though eating out of the takeout container was perfectly fine and more than acceptable.  Jean couldn’t help a small chuckle and a light hip check for Marco’s effort, plopping the greasy, gross bag of food onto the counter.  Marco’s nose twitched up at the slight squelching noise produced, and dug into the bag.

 

   “Rotten luck, your food’s on the bottom,” Marco laughed, opening the top two containers slightly as he took them out.  Jean let out a groan, peeking into the bottom container to make sure (the container’s styrofoam let out a wail in protest), and yup, that was indeed his delicious shrimp with garlic sauce on the bottom.  Pouting, Jean completely ignored the plate that Marco tried to offer him, instead grabbing the paper towel roll and ripping about half of them off to dry the container off.  Jean then triumphantly carried it over to the tiny kitchen table that Marco only had because Jean insisted on getting it at a yard sale, taking extra care to place some of the unused paper towels he’d grabbed underneath the container.  Marco let out a sigh before joining him, silverware in hand (Jean couldn’t help another laugh and head shake, why couldn’t Marco just use the plastic forks that the place provides them with?), dropping the container of dumplings at the far end of the table so they wouldn’t be in the way.

 

   They ate silently for a while, the nervousness Jean had felt in the hallway climbing back into his chest at full force, until his left leg was bouncing erratically.  Marco kept glancing up at Jean, looking like he was about to say something, before chickening out and staring at his plate.  Jean wanted to talk, say anything that might break the ice, but Marco beat him to it.

   “I need to apologize for making you uncomfortable,” He stated, rubbing just under his nose, and Jean let out a long groan as he dropped his fork dramatically.  “Apology jar, now,” Jean joked lightly, tossing a crooked grin up at Marco, who still looks at him solemnly even as the corners of his mouth twitch up in an attempt to smile.  Jean picked his fork back up, and started shoving food into his mouth, trying not to overthink as he spoke.

 

   “Luk, you fon’t need thu apologize.  Ah could’ve fold you abouf my thexualithe at any point, but did ah?  Feh!”  Jean paused to swallow and shake his head at that point, Marco nodding slightly to show he understood.  “You were nervous about telling me?”  Marco asked, as if the answer were not obvious to both of them.  Jean nodded, staring down at his food as he remembered his past relationships that had been strained (and eventually destroyed) by his admission.  He jumped slightly when Marco’s hand tentatively touched his own, smiling and reaching for it when Marco started to pull his own back.  

 

   “So...This is okay?”  Marco asked, gesturing to their hands together.  Jean nodded, allowing himself to smile slightly.  None of his past partners had asked if it was okay once he had come out to them (probably thinking that it was fine because he’d done so in the past), and Jean was definitely NOT going to let himself get teary eyed over Marco asking if it was okay.  (He was definitely getting teary eyed, but he figured he could blame that on the food.)

   “Yeah, hand holding, hugging, kissing, I’m fine with that stuff,” Jean added before Marco could ask.  At least, it had looked to Jean like Marco was going to ask, and it’s just safer to cover all their bases, right?  Marco nodded, his thumb rubbing over the back of Jean’s hand soothingly, smiling in a slightly mischievous way.

 

   “So you’re alright with this?”  Marco asked innocently, before leaning forward to smooch the living daylights out of Jean.  It was an innocent kiss, not even an ounce of tongue, but Jean’s toes curled from how disgustingly sweet it was.  Which, y’know, would be kind of weird to think of a kiss while in the middle of eating Chinese food, but it was sweeter than a cotton candy kiss to Jean.  It was a promise of acceptance, of “I don’t judge you,” of “this works for both of us,” and of “I enjoy this so much”.  When Marco pulled back (reluctantly it seemed), Jean couldn’t help a small sigh, not remembering that Marco had asked him a question at all.  Only when Marco cleared his throat, making Jean jump, did he speak again, anxiety that he’d wanted to abandon crawling back into his chest.

 

   “You don’t...Y’know, mind?  That we’re not gonna...And that I don’t…?”  Jean asked tentatively, waving his free hand in a gesture that could’ve meant absolutely anything.  Marco frowned, the tiny lines on his forehead deepening, as he grabbed up Jean’s other hand and held them both tightly.  

   “Look, Jean, I don’t care about that.  Yeah, I’d thought of it, and yeah, I had wanted it.”  Jean opened his mouth to say something, but Marco continued on quickly.  “Key word is ‘had’.  I’m not gonna force you into another shitty situation just because I’m turned on.”  He shrugged slightly, letting go of one of Jean’s hands to rub just beneath his nose once more.  “Besides, sex isn’t the most important thing in the world, there’s much funner things we can do than that,” Marco added brightly.  

 

   Neither of them spoke for a while after that, lost in their own thoughts (Jean wondering if this was as much as they were going to talk about it, while Marco thought about future potential date nights).  Eventually they both started picking back at their food, Marco curiously popping open the container of dumplings and scooping two out.  Jean raised an eyebrow as Marco popped one whole into his mouth.  It’d been much too long for the dumplings to be any good now, and Jean snickered slightly at the grossed out face that Marco made.  “Iff’s sliiiiiiiimy,” Marco whined around the food in his mouth, hopping up to spit it in the garbage as Jean started cackling at his expense.  Marco pouted slightly, wiping the slightly chewed food out of his mouth with a paper towel.

 

   “Does your laughing at my misfortune mean that we’re good?”  He asked, a small smile on his face.  Jean hummed noncommittally, quickly running over if there was anything left they really needed to discuss.  When nothing immediately came to mind, he nodded slowly, a matching smile slowly spreading across his face.  Both of them just smiled, Jean returning to his food and Marco picking up the container of dumplings to put in the refrigerator for later.  Before Marco was done putting them in the fridge, Jean had finished his food entirely, and tried to toss the empty styrofoam into the garbage can from where he was sitting (and failing miserably).  The look on Marco’s face could easily be defined as “why am I dating this literal five year old what is wrong with me”, which Jean just laughed at, before dragging his feet to go pick it up and put it in the garbage like an actual adult.  Marco tossed his own plate in the sink almost carelessly (thank you Corelle for being pretty shatter resistant), shuffling his feet slightly.

 

   “Wanna watch a movie or something?”  He asked hopefully as Jean turned back to the table, an excited squeal coming from him when Jean nodded in agreement.  Jean immediately dove onto the couch in the living room, snatching up the nicer fluffy blanket of the two that Marco kept folded on the back for just this very reason.  Marco turned on the TV and immediately picked the channel that (thankfully) was playing the 1984 version of A Christmas Carol.  Jean personally wasn’t invested in which version was playing, but Marco’s absolute favorite was the 1984 version, and it made Marco much more happy.  Scrooge had just announced that the poor who would rather die than go to work houses should die quickly and decrease the surplus population (one of Jean’s personal favorite quotes) by the time Marco had wiggled up behind Jean, an arm curled across his waist.

 

   “Just lemme know if you need space,” Marco mumbled in Jean’s ear, before becoming thoroughly engrossed by the movie, while Jean remained very much unengrossed.  Scrooge had just been visited by Jacob Marley by the time Jean vaguely thought of something that they hadn’t discussed, his mouth curling up into a devious grin.

   “Hey Marco?”  Jean asked with a deceptively innocent voice, Marco immediately squishing himself back against the couch and removing his hand from Jean’s waist.  Rolling his eyes, Jean pulled Marco back, and grumbled “Not what I was gonna ask, freckles, but very kind of you.”  Marco sighed slightly, before snuggling even closer to Jean.

 

   “What I was going to ask,” Jean continued, grin widening slightly, “was if us being back togetherish means that I can research your sweater thing.”  Marco froze for a second, before groaning and letting his head fall in between Jean’s shoulders.  Jean cackled loudly, twisting around slightly so he could try to grin at Marco’s blushing face.  “C’mon!  I’ll even throw one on just for you,” Jean laughed, winking exaggeratedly at Marco, who groaned even louder and whined “Jean no, you’ll kill me!”

 

   Jean continued to loudly tease Marco, until he was swatted with a small pillow, and then it was ON.  The Ghost of Christmas Past had just faded out by the time the pair had started an all-out war, cackling and throwing pillows at each other and diving behind furniture to protect themselves, and it probably wouldn’t end unless one of them shouted a surrender.  And even with all the misunderstandings and confusion, Jean couldn’t help but think that this was shaping up to be the best holiday season he’d ever experienced, even as he eventually called out a surrender after almost knocking over Marco’s TV in an attempt to dodge an attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this ^-^ While this story is finished, I'm not quite done with the Bonely Hearts AU! Keep an eye out for more of these boys!  
> (Special thanks to Kai for beta'ing this chapter for me, I'm terrible at tenses and it was very late when I finished this during a sneezing fit)

**Author's Note:**

> Take a guess as to who is who in the text conversation ^-^
> 
> The sweaters that were mentioned are [here](http://www.tipsyelves.com/mens-present-christmas-sweater), and [here](http://www.tipsyelves.com/ugly-christmas-cardigan).


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